


what if i wake up tonight and you are real

by ikuzonos



Category: Exit/Corners (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad Ending, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, i guess. kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: Ink gets on with the rest of his life. It's the hardest thing he's ever done.
Relationships: Aether Irving & Ink Greer, Ink Greer & Liza Thatcher, Ink Greer/Rae Nandon, Liza Thatcher & Rae Nandon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	what if i wake up tonight and you are real

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to Maggie (rocknrollalien) for beta reading, especially as you had no idea what I was talking about!
> 
> Ending clause is "both, letter, secret." Mild transphobia warning for the scene where Ink phones his mother.

It’s not as easy as walking out the door. He knows that, knew it from the moment he was awoken from his pod. In the moment, it’s just stepping out into the sunlight.

In the long run, it’s so, _so_ much more.

Ink casts glances at his companions. Rae looks back at him, quirking his lips ever so slightly, and nudges Ink’s shoulder. Liza doesn’t turn her head, but that’s no surprise.

_What now?_

Sure, they have the rest of their lives to figure that out now, but it almost doesn’t seem real. Not entirely. Instinctively, Ink braces himself for hemorrhaging, but nothing happens. It’s comforting and chilling at the same time.

Exit/Corners is over. There is no more simulation, no more puzzles, no more desperately cheating death at every moment.

“Are we just going to stand here?” Liza asks, snapping Ink out of his trance.

Rae snorts. “Give him a break. It’s been a while since we’ve been in the sun.”

Ink says, “No, she’s right. Where were we going to eat again?”

Rae says, “You said something about nachos, but I doubt we’re getting into a pub with her.”

“We can find a restaurant that’ll serve them,” Liza replies, “Or we could just get sushi.”

Rae wrinkles his nose. “Pass. I’m not putting raw fish in my mouth.”

Liza opens her mouth to argue, but Ink quickly intervenes, “Why don’t we just browse? Maybe we’ll find something we all like.”

That seems fine. The three of them set off across Bellbridge U’s campus, slow but steady. All of them are still somewhat groggy from CORNERS, and Liza is having the slightest trouble with the various staircases, but they’re managing. They’re moving forwards.

“People are staring,” Ink says quietly.

Rae says, “We look like a right fucking circus, don’t we? We got a five foot tall teenager and someone who just stepped out of a Victorian novel.”

Liza replies nonchalantly, “And you’re the clown.”

Rae laughs, but it comes out raspy and weak.

Ink protests, “I do not look like that.”

“You named yourself Ink,” Liza says, “How much more nineteenth century can you get?”

Ink adjusts his scarf. “It’s a nice name! It’s unique. People remember it.”

Rae says, “You haven’t made an argument at all.”

Ink folds his arms. “I could’ve named myself Leopold, or something ridiculous like that. _That_ is nineteenth century.”

“If you named yourself that, nobody would ever take you seriously,” Liza replies.

Rae asks, “Do people take ‘Ink’ seriously?”

“Yes!” Ink responds.

Liza smirks at him.

Ink tries to frown, but Rae and Liza’s smiles make it difficult for him to avoid laughing. It’s nice, being with friends.

Even if everyone else is staring.

* * *

He returns to his dorm alone that night, unsure of what to expect. Perhaps all his possessions will be strewn across the place, or his valuables will be missing. Who knows?

However, when Ink unlocks his door, what he doesn’t expect is to find the place neat as a pin. There isn’t even a speck of dust behind. He stares at the small space, his heart pounding. 

His bed is made, sheets tucked in like in a hotel. His usually exploding bookcase has been reorganized by author, with excess titles stacked on top of it.

Ink wanders in circles, trying to figure out what happened while he was gone. The kitchen is sparkling; cleaner than it was the day he moved in, and the food in the fridge is fresh.

The only familiar sight is the sword hanging in his room. It’s still crooked on the wall. Ink approaches it and drags his finger among the dulled edges. It’s the only thing in here that hasn’t become alien to him.

Sean must have cleaned the place, he realizes belatedly. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Suddenly, he’s not sure that he wants to be by himself.

He got Rae and Liza’s contact information before they parted ways, and his thumb hovers over their names on his phone. Will they think this is stupid, or will they understand? He doesn’t know.

Ink sinks to the floor and buries his face in his knees. There is something so alien about the place he used to call home, and it’s terrifying. 

Come morning, he heads to the administration building and requests a room change. He doubts it’ll fix much, but it’s a start.

* * *

Ink’s phone rings as he’s jogging up to the sixth floor for his first criminology course. He considers ignoring it, but that thought immediately flees his mind when he realizes that Liza is on the other end.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” Ink answers, slamming against a wall and trying to catch his breath.

Liza’s voice is low and rocky. “Hey. I don’t know. I’m… processing some mental garbage, and it sucks.”

Ink says, “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

He can miss class. It’s fine. He got the bank transfer from Nolan Thatcher two nights ago, and it’s more than enough for the rest of his schooling.

Liza says softly, “My father’s still talking about turning himself in. It’s like… it’s like nothing Beth said mattered to him.”

“I thought he wasn’t living with you anymore,” Ink says, confusion flooding his voice. Last he’d heard, Liza had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Nolan.

Liza replies, “He did a video call with the other staff. And I eavesdropped. He wouldn’t shut up about _repenting._ ”

“The easy way out,” Ink murmurs. “Shit, I’m sorry. I tried to convince him otherwise.”

Liza says, “Don’t apologize, dummy. I’m just upset about it. Um. How are you?”

Ink feels a weak smile on his face at her awkward attempt to change the topic, “A mess. It’s so weird, having to wake up every day and pretend that none of it ever happened.”

“I bet,” Liza says, “Nobody on your end knows?”

Ink says, “My professors know that _something_ happened, but not the specifics. Not that I’d tell them. And my only friends are you and Rae.”

Liza says, “You should really work on that.”

Ink laughs. “Trying. I keep freezing up. I… worry too much about how I’m perceived.”

“Huh. You didn’t seem to be worrying about that during Exit/Corners,” Liza says, “Did I just miss that?”

Ink replies, “I was a little too concerned with possibly dying for that to be at the forefront of my mind.”

Liza sighs deeply. “True that.”

They end up talking for a while longer, about Liza’s father, about Exit/Corners, about anything and everything that comes to mind. Ink shows up halfway through the class. He apologizes to the professor after the fact, and feels only a little bit of guilt when she smiles and says that Nolan Thatcher already sent her a memo about him.

* * *

“Are you sure?”

Ink laughs and pulls Rae further into the new dorm. “I wouldn’t have things any other way. I just hope it’s big enough.”

Rae snorts. “You’re kidding, right? The fucking kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment.”

Ink says, “That’s… really small. Where were you living before this?”

Rae looks out the window and only offers half an answer, “Hot water was cut off a lot.”

_Guess he’s not up to talk about it._

Convincing Rae to be his roommate now that he was coming back to BBU to finish his degree hadn’t been too difficult. Though, Ink was now wondering what living with him would be like. 

(Rae had said he missed living in close quarters with someone else. Ink had tried to ignore how his stomach twisted.)

“Think you can help me bring the boxes in?” Rae asks, startling him from his thoughts.

Ink nods, and the pair of them head down the hall to where the moving company dropped everything off. It takes a lot of coordination, but they manage to get Rae’s possessions into the dorm without much issue.

“I take it that your arm is still giving you grief,” Ink says, pushing a box into what will be Rae’s room.

Rae sighs. “You got that down. I’ve been doing physio for it, but as far as the doctors are concerned, it’s forever fucked.”

He tries to move his arm, but the only response is a tiny twitch from his fingers. Ink winces.

“Guess it’s what I get,” Rae mumbles, and focuses on pushing a box himself.

Ink tries to change the subject, “What do you think you’ll do with that computer science degree?”

Rae shrugs, “No damn clue. If I’m being real, I’m not thinking more than a couple hours into the future.”

Ink supposes that might be for the best.

“And you? You’re in the crim department now, aren’t you?” Rae asks.

Ink sighs and leans against the wall. “It’s complicated. I haven’t officially changed majors, but I’m trying other classes. I don’t know what I want.”

Rae comes and stands next to him. “I thought you said some shit about being a detective.”

“I wasn’t serious,” Ink replies, “Me? A cop? Please. The system’s as corrupt as it gets.”

Rae says, “I was picturing more like a PI. I’d be your computer geek buddy, and Liza could be your assistant with snappy one liners.”

Ink laughs. “That’d be something. I don’t know what I’m doing. I signed up for a psychology class because… because of how much Aether liked the subject.”

He expects Rae to chastise him, or call him stupid for chasing after some kind of memory, but instead he says, “That’s noble. I miss her too.”

That’s all either of them say. They start unpacking the boxes next.

* * *

The nightmares are frequent.

They’re different each night, and Ink isn’t sure if he appreciates the variety, or is annoyed that he can’t desensitize himself. Either way, he wakes up in a cold sweat each time.

Some repeat on occasion. Beth’s death. Rae and Liza’s corners. Wandering around the Four Elements hotel while Sent talks his ear off. Water rising in the elevator as he finds himself unable to solve the puzzle within it.

Those nightmares are bad, but calming himself down after them doesn’t take too long.

However, Aether and Sean haunt the space behind his eyes. Dreaming about Aether is okay. She usually just talks to him until something happens, and she shuts down completely. When he wakes up, he ends up crying for at least an hour.

She wasn’t real. No matter how much he remembers, she wasn’t real. Not in the same way. Not the way he wants.

And then there is Sean.

Sean Ward’s presence in the back of his mind holds a cast iron grip on him. Each time Ink dreams of him, it gets worse in some way.

Perhaps it’s because he knew Sean, or at least, thought he did. Perhaps it’s because so many of these nightmares are old memories. Perhaps it’s knowing that everything Sean did and said for a year was grooming Ink for Exit/Corners. Perhaps.

They start off like normal dreams, half the time. Or as normal as his dreams get, at least. But then Sean arrives out of nowhere and starts talking about one thing or another.

(And sometimes he’s making small talk, or asking if Ink plans on attending some party. Sometimes he’s telling Ink that he doesn’t mean anything to anyone, or that he’s worthless in the eyes of anyone but him. Sometimes he slings an arm around him and chatters aimlessly with the same dopey smile as always. And sometimes it’s: “You’re my best buddy, Ink, but I don’t feel that way about guys.”)

And he always wakes with an ache in his chest.

It’s grief. It’s guilt.

* * *

Liza always meets Ink after therapy. Usually, she’s sitting in the waiting room, humming along to some song he’s never heard of, and they go grab something to eat after.

Today, though, there’s nobody in the room besides the receptionist and an old man with a creased newspaper. Disappointed, Ink grabs his umbrella and takes the six flights of stairs to the ground floor, wondering if something came up. 

Rae’s going to be in class for another couple hours, so there’s nothing he can do but wait for the bus in the rain. Ink sighs. Yet another Tuesday.

As he’s walking towards the bus stop though, a fancy car on the street rolls down a window, and someone inside calls out.

“Hey, dork! Get in!”

Ink turns to see Liza sitting inside, grinning. She opens the door, and he quickly puts his umbrella down and dives inside.

“Sorry I wasn’t inside,” Liza says, once they’re starting to drive away, “It’s miserable today.”

Ink smiles. “It’s fine! Though you did have me a little worried.”

Liza says, “I would’ve called, but then the window thing wouldn’t have had the same effect.”

Ink laughs and adjusts his coat. “How did you even know it was me walking by?”

Liza shifts around in her seat, then mutters, “I asked Mr. Hammond to tell me when you were close.”

Ink looks up at Mr. Hammond, the driver for the Thatcher family, and waves. Mr. Hammond waves back, chuckling.

“What are you hungry for?” Liza asks.

Ink shrugs. “Anything is fine. I’m not feeling too great anyways.”

Liza frowns. “That’s not like you. Did something happen?”

Ink presses his lips together and looks out the window. “We talked a lot about Aether today.”

It’s weird, having a therapist again. He hasn’t seen one since he was thirteen. What’s weirder is that his therapist knows about CORNERS. He suspects that she must have been on Nolan Thatcher’s payroll at some point.

Though, at least it means he doesn’t have to hide anything. Rae’s physiotherapist is very suspicious of his story that boils down to “shark attack.”

Liza winces. “Yikes. Should I tactfully avoid that topic, or delve into it?”

Ink rubs his forehead. “I miss her. And I feel guilty for it. I…”

“Don’t feel guilty for having normal emotions,” Liza replies, “That’d be stupid.”

Ink whispers, “Sean… Sean kept saying that I was in love with her. But I don’t think I was. And I feel guilty for that too.”

Liza says, “Can’t help much with sorting that out. I am _not_ equipped to deal with heterosexuality.”

“I’m not straight,” Ink replies, slightly offended.

“My bad. Not really good at dealing with men either, though,” Liza says, tapping her fingers against her seat.

Ink laughs weakly. “That is fair.”

Liza says, “How does pizza sound? Even if you’re not hungry now, you can save it for later. Or for Rae.”

Ink leans back in his seat. “Sounds good.”

* * *

“Hey, Ink!”

He looks up from rummaging through his bag, curious. Standing a few feet away from him is Joel, an acquaintance from the English department.

Ink waves. “Um, hi! I… haven’t seen you in a while.”

Joel grins. “I was off doing a field school program in Italy. You should try applying for one! I bet the sun would do you some good, at any rate. You’re paler than ever.”

Ink wonders if that’s a byproduct of Exit/Corners. He says, “I’ll see what’s available.”

Joel snaps his fingers and pulls a book from his coat. “Here, by the way. I’ve been trying to return this all day, but when I went to the south building, I got told you live up here now.”

Ink smiles nervously and takes the book back. The cover is slightly crumpled. His heart should not be beating as fast as it is. Something is wrong.

“Do you have a roommate now?” Joel asks, “I knocked on what I thought was your door, but some tall guy with a broken arm opened it.”

Ah. 

Ink says, “I do. That’s Rae, he’s my best friend.”

“Damn, what happened with Sean?” Joel asks so flippantly, like he hasn’t just swung a sledgehammer into Ink’s chest.

Ink fumbles for a response, but there aren’t any words that he can use anymore. Everything is jumbled.

And Joel keeps talking, “No offence, but outside of class, you were glued to that guy. Kept wondering if there was more going on than I knew.”

Ink struggles for air. Sean is gone, is missing, has vanished. Legally, he’s been wiped off the map and rosters of BBU. Legally, he’s nothing more than a blip, a statistic, a data point.

But Ink knows. Ink ripped Sean in half himself. _Justified self-defence,_ he tells himself when the ugly thoughts come to the surface. But is that true? Was it not out of anger? For revenge?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Sean’s blood is on his hands. Invisible to the naked eye, but dripping, dripping, dripping everywhere he goes. 

Sean Ward is dead and his ghost follows everywhere. Dead dead _dead—_

Ink isn’t breathing.

Joel is still talking, but it’s frantic and loud now, and then he’s running, running, _running?_

Ink is on the floor. The hallway is swimming before him, twisting and turning like a hurricane. It’s happening again, and there is no way for him to call for help. He can’t move.

Footsteps. Is someone coming? Is Sean here to remind him of this unbearable sin? Ink claws at the carpet.

Someone is speaking. He’s been hearing strange voices in the back of his head again.

“Ink?! Ink, holy shit,” Rae’s voice rings out, breaking through the storm of thoughts over him. He kneels down beside him, and Ink feels Rae’s good arm on his back.

The air is cold. Joel is standing several feet away, watching with wide eyes.

Rae whispers, “It’s just me. Focus on me, okay?”

Slowly, his breathing returns to normal, and his heart stops threatening to burst from his chest. He looks up into Rae’s soft eyes, and the world around him falls still.

“Can you stand?” Rae asks.

“I don’t know,” Ink croaks. He tries to move, but immediately falls back on his knees, shaking.

Rae gently helps him up and says, “Lean on me. We’ll go back together.”

Ink nods blankly, putting his weight on Rae’s shoulder. As they slowly struggle forwards, Rae gives Joel a sharp nod, as though dismissing him. Ink barely processes it. The floor feels uneven.

The second they get back inside the dorm, Ink collapses on the ratty sofa and rubs his face. Rae sits next to him, hand on his shoulder.

They don’t speak. They don’t need to. Rae simply waits patiently as Ink regains his composure. It takes some time, and Ink is glad that neither of them need to be anywhere else today.

Finally, he whispers, “It happened so fast. He asked who you were, and when I said you were my best friend, he wanted to know what happened to Sean.”

Rae tenses. “Fucker. I’ll rip that punk a new one if I ever see his dumb face again.”

“Joel didn’t know,” Ink mutters.

“I meant Sean,” Rae replies, looking down at his dead arm, “I can’t believe he and Tiana just got to walk after everything they did to us.”

Cold air washes over Ink in an instant. Rae doesn’t know. He’s somehow held this secret to his chest without it bursting for all this time. Sean is dead because Ink chose to kill him.

(“It will weigh on you forever,” Nolan Thatcher had warned.)

He’s sitting here, breathing, but does he deserve to be? Ink stares at a knothole in the hardwood floor, shaking. This isn’t right. There had to have been another way out, another way to save his own life without stealing one in the process.

His skeleton is falling apart, bones splitting at the seams. He’ll have to sew himself back together again one of these days, but for now, it’s all he can do to _exist._

He wonders what the sponsor would have chosen. He wonders if they could have brought his sorry self to salvation.

Then again, he probably wouldn’t have listened. He had started ignoring them a long time ago.

Ink blinks, and realizes that Rae is no longer beside him. Panic rises up in his throat, until it becomes clear that Rae is walking right back to him, a steaming mug in hand.

“I made tea,” Rae says, passing it to him and sitting back down.

Ink stares at the mug. Rae forgot to take the tea bag out.

“You always do it for me when I have those dreams.” Rae brushes a strand of hair out of his face, “Thought I’d try.”

Ink croaks, “Thank you.”

It’s too hot, oversteeped, and doesn’t have anything added to it, but Ink drinks the tea anyways. It’s the least he can do.

“Am I really your best friend?” Rae asks suddenly.

Ink looks at him over the rim of the mug. “Yeah? I thought you knew that already.”

Rae cracks a wry smile. “Liza’s going to be so ticked when she hears.”

“You’re both adults. You can share,” Ink responds.

Rae laughs, and it brings some kind of amusement to Ink too. They chuckle lightly while Ink sucks back the worst tea he has ever had in his life.

The weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Sean is still dead.

* * *

Liza’s house is too big to feel comfortable in. Ink keeps feeling like someone is going to throw him out any second. He sits on the living room floor now, trying to ignore how the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Rae looks nervous too. Ink wonders if it’s for the same reasons.

Or maybe it has something to do with Liza’s mean, bug eyed cat that is constantly staring at the three of them from somewhere in the house. The cat is named Jellyfish.

Yeah, maybe it’s the cat making him sweat buckets.

“You guys are being weird,” Liza says. She’s sprawled out on her couch, much like the cat, one arm hanging off and skimming the floor.

Ink rubs his neck, “Is now a bad time to mention I grew up somewhat poor? I’ve never seen a house this nice in real life.”

Liza asks, “How did you afford to go to Bellbridge U, then? I’ve heard a ton about tuition issues.”

“Scholarships and a surprisingly successful GoFundMe,” Ink responds.

He would’ve done anything to get away from his parents, he thinks. Not that he got very far; picking the university closest to their home was probably not the best way to go about it. Still, leaving Bellbridge would have felt like running away.

He’s running now. Faster every day. Ink clenches his fists. He was going to call them, wasn’t he? Try to reconnect after his near death experience? Was there something salvageable among the train wreck of his lonely family?

It makes his head hurt.

Rae mutters, “It’s weird being here as a guest. I remember casing the place clear as day.”

“Oh yeah,” Liza says, sitting up, “You almost torched me.”

Rae raises an eyebrow. “Did you forget?”

Liza shrugs. “I’m not bitter over it or anything. At least, not anymore. So it’s not really at the forefront of my mind.”

Rae looks down at the fluffy area rug he’s currently seated on and whispers something Ink can’t make out.

It’s definitely strange. He remembers how easily Liza spat daggers when they first met. 

They’ve all come a long way, all changed drastically.

(But not all for the better.)

Ink bites his lip. It’s still weighing on him. The albatross around his neck grows heavier by the day. Someone should know. 

“There’s… something I need to say,” he murmurs, struggling to raise his voice, “I…”

Liza turns her head towards him. It’s strange seeing her eyes so pale. He tries to think about that and not how close he is to crying.

Rae’s gaze is focused on him too. It’s clear they’re waiting for him to speak. Ink takes a deep breath and forces the words to the surface.

“Sean’s dead. I killed him.”

The confession spreads across the living room slowly. It takes a while for it to truly sink in.

Then, Rae croaks, “Holy shit.”

Liza sits up, confused. “Wait, what? He’s dead?!”

Ink buries his face in his hands. “I ripped him in half.”

Rae frowns. “Literally? Ink, you—“

“In CORNERS,” Ink says, tears running down his face, “After we split. I realized… I realized… it was possible to manipulate the program. And… And I…”

Liza covers her mouth. “No way. I knew you answered some of the puzzles weird, but… You could mess with it that much, huh?”

He can’t stop crying. Despite doing everything to hold the agony back, he can do nothing but scream.

There are only three of them left. Beth is long dead and Aether never really existed at all. 

Liza and Rae are hugging him, he realizes. He doesn’t know how to respond, or if he even can.

“It’s not your fault,” Liza says, “He was on the warpath back there, wasn’t he? You were trying to stay alive.”

Ink murmurs, “I had another way. I… I _chose_ to kill him.”

Rae replies, “That piece of shit was manipulating you from day fucking one. He deserved what he got.”

_But he was still my friend._

_Once._

Ink doesn’t say that aloud. He just sinks into their warmth and begs for mercy from whatever forces lie above him.

* * *

He doesn’t sleep much anymore.

Even with the counselling, and the medication, and meditation, and every other trick in the book, Ink spends half the night staring at the ceiling, begging for release. Even listing off a movie for every letter of the alphabet can’t lull him to sleep now.

It’s cold. It’s so cold here. The wind is howling.

Ink doesn’t know if insomnia is better or worse than the nightmares. He hasn’t really felt up to comparing the experiences.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten. It does not help a bit. Ink grabs one of his many pillows and hugs it to his chest, wondering if there’s a way to shut his brain down.

Nothing. 

Is this better? Is it better to shuffle through the world exhausted and dysfunctional? He’s still left alone with his thoughts, which are never pretty.

It’s _so cold_ here.

Just as Ink begins to wonder if he should risk taking a walk and being caught by campus security, he hears a startled shout from the other side of the dorm.

_Rae?!_

Ink shoots out of bed, dragging his sheets halfway across the floor, and runs through the main living area into Rae’s room.

Rae is sitting up, clutching the quilt like his life depends on it, and breathing heavily. It seems like he’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out.

Ink sits on the edge of his bed and rubs his shoulder. Slowly, Rae’s breathing eases, but he doesn’t let go of the blankets.

It’s three in the morning. They both have class at ten.

“Tiana?” Ink asks.

“Tiana,” Rae echoes, his voice raw and weak, “She… She got away with everything.”

Ink moves closer to Rae, trying to be comforting. It’s hard.

Rae mutters, “I was stuck in my Corner again. It kept tightening around my arm. And she was just… fuckin’ standing there. Staring at me.”

Ink’s chest tightens. Rae’s Corner was meant to be fatal, and the only one that was. He hasn’t found the courage to explain that to him yet. He doesn’t know how.

Maybe it’ll just be another secret that remains locked away inside of him, eating at his insides.

“She was smiling,” Rae says weakly, “It… it hurt so bad. I couldn’t breathe. It wouldn’t stop.”

Ink whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but she’s not here. She can’t hurt you. It’s just me and you and this shitty dorm room.”

Rae mutters, “I dated her for six goddamn years. I thought I would _marry_ her.”

Ink tries to ignore how his stomach twists at those words. All he manages to get out is, “I’m sorry.”

Rae awkwardly reaches over and grabs Ink’s hand. It’s quiet. They’ve had a lot of nights like this. 

“Do you want tea?” Ink asks. He knows the answer, but he always says it. It’s routine. Routines are calming. 

Rae mumbles, “Please.”

Ink squeezes his hand. However, as he tries to get up and trudge to the kitchen, Rae grabs his wrist. Confused, he asks, “What gives?”

Rae croaks, “Don’t leave me. Please, I… I can’t lose you.”

Ink sits back down, “You’re not losing me. You said you wanted tea, so I’m making some. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I can’t… I can’t,” Rae whispers, his breathing getting frantic again, “I can’t be alone.”

Ink says, “It’s going to be hard to boil water in your room. Can you stand? You can come with me.”

Rae shudders, “That ain’t… I… Shit, Ink, I thought I was going to die.”

It seems like he’s not going to be making tea anytime soon. Rae’s still clinging to his hand. Ink shifts himself so that he’s able to hug Rae.

It’s almost funny. When they first met, Ink could barely imagine willingly spending time with Rae, let alone anything like this. Now, curling up next to him on a twin size mattress feels normal. Feels sane.

At some point, they both drift off. When Ink wakes at eight, it takes him a few minutes to realize that he didn’t dream at all.

* * *

“You can’t just keep putting it off,” Liza says, folding her arms.

Rae says, “Hey, don’t pressure him. Shit’s hard.”

Ink looks at his phone, then back at his friends. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’m sorry.”

Liza sighs. “You said there was something worth saving. If it were me, I’d already have called.”

“It’s not that easy. Not when they can’t… see me the right way,” Ink mutters.

Liza thankfully ignores his choice of words. “I never said it was easy. You just have to do it.”

Ink mutters, “I don’t see you pressuring Rae to call _his_ parents.”

Liza says, “Different circumstances. You promised, Ink.”

“I’m also never doing that,” Rae chimes in.

It occurs to him that he has no idea what Rae’s family situation is like, and then quickly decides that now is not the time to ask. In any case, he doubts it’s good.

Ink rubs his face. They’re back at Liza’s house, because bringing her to the dorms gets them crazy weird looks from students and faculty alike. It’s just easier that way, and Ink’s found himself getting used to the furnishings.

He’s not used to Liza’s weird cat, though. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

Liza says, “I get it. You’re scared. But isn’t it better to face those fears and be right, than to hide away and never know?”

Ink says, “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Most of my family is dead, and I’m never speaking to my father again,” Liza replies, “I figure that it’s got to be worth a shot.”

Rae adds, “And you never have to do it again if you don’t want. We’ve got your back.”

Ink takes a deep breath, and dials his old home phone number from memory. He holds the phone up to his ear and begs that neither of his parents are home.

He’s never that lucky. His mother picks up on the third ring.

“Annabelle Greer speaking.”

Ink digs his nails into his knee, “Hi, mom. It’s been a while.”

She’s silent for several seconds. When she speaks, her voice is low, “It most certainly has. How many years, now?”

“Six,” Ink replies, trying to steady his breathing.

His mother hums, “A long time for a mother to be without her daughter.”

“Son. I’m your son,” Ink instantly corrects. On the other side of the room, Liza and Rae tense.

His mother sighs. “You’re still delusional over half a decade later? I thought we raised you better, Kim.”

Ink snaps, “That’s not my name. I told you, it’s Ink.”

Liza grimaces. 

His mother says, “That silly nickname—“

“It’s my legal name,” Ink cuts her off. “I can’t believe we’re still arguing about this.”

She says, “I’ll argue until my _daughter_ comes to her senses.”

“Seriously? Fuck you,” Ink grumbles. “This was a waste of time.”

He hangs up and buries his face in his hands. Why did he think he could repair that relationship?

Rae and Liza are leaning on him a heartbeat later. Ink holds them both close as tears slick his face.

“I’m sorry,” Liza whispers, “I shouldn’t have…”

Ink says, “No, don’t apologize. At least I know to burn that bridge.”

Better to live with the truth. Better to face his fears than run.

(There is so much blood.)

“I don’t need them. I have you two,” Ink adds, eyes still watering.

Rae says, “We’re not going anywhere.”

Liza chuckles weakly. “Yeah. We’re pretty hard to get rid of, aren’t we?”

Ink laughs. The pain in his chest is crushing, but at least he’s with the people he loves. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “I’m going to wash my face. I’ll be right back.”

He gets up and treads down the hall to the nearest washroom. He winces at the site of his reflection; his eyes are red and gross.

Once he’s refreshed, and somehow managed to get water down his arms, Ink returns to the living room. Liza and Rae are speaking in hushed voices.

“—will absolutely regret it for the rest of your life,” Liza is saying confidently.

Rae whispers, “Liza, stop.”

Liza tilts her head, “Why? You need to hear this.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ink asks, settling down on the plush rug. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if they’ll fill him in. It’s not like either of them to gossip.

Rae doesn’t meet his eyes, but Liza replies easily, “He keeps eyeing my father’s old liquor stash. The last thing any of us need is inebriation.”

She waves her hand in the direction of a nondescript cabinet. Ink wonders how she can tell, but decides it isn’t worth asking.

Rae mutters, “I know she’s right. Having enough trouble with smoking as it is. The one thing Tiana did right was getting me to quit, even if it only lasted two years.”

Ink says, “We’ll do our best to help you. Cigarettes _are_ really bad for you.”

“I’m aware, Doctor Greer,” Rae snorts.

Liza giggles.

Ink laughs too, but finds himself looking at the liquor cabinet. He doesn’t drink anymore, but the urge is still there sometimes. It reminds him too much of Sean.

Ink shakes his head. “We should play a game.”

“Like what?” Rae asks.

Ink shrugs, “You’re the one who can list one for every letter of the alphabet.”

Liza asks, “Can he? That’s weird.”

“I got stuck on X,” Rae reminds him.

Ink isn’t sure if there is a game out there that starts with X, but he also hasn’t put even a lick of thought into it.

Liza shrugs. “Scrabble? The version I have has braille on the tiles.”

Ink says, “I didn’t know you could get that. But sure, sounds fun.”

“It’s custom made,” Liza responds, getting up. “I’ll go grab it.”

She shoves Rae’s shoulder good naturedly as she leaves them alone in the living room. Ink wonders if there was more to their earlier conversation than they admitted.

* * *

It rains on the day of Beth’s funeral.

Ink, Liza, and Rae stand clustered under one big umbrella, watching from afar. The service is over, and there isn’t much more to do besides look at her headstone.

Allegedly, her funeral had been put on hold in order to hide the connection between CORNERS and her death. On paper, her cause of death was a heart attack. Ink doesn’t care about the excuses. His stomach twists.

There aren’t too many people left. It’s late afternoon, and the downpour has only gotten worse as time has passed. Ink himself is soaked to the bone.

“Is my father still there?” Liza asks. She’s shivering.

Rae says, “Unfortunately. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get near you, if you wanna go up and say a couple words.”

Liza whispers, “I don’t know what I’d even say. I had no idea she was my grandmother until I’d lost her.”

Ink bites his lip. He wishes that Beth’s letter hadn’t been lost when the program failed. He waits a moment, then says, “She really cared about you. In the blue wing, she kept asking how you were doing.”

Liza leans against him. “Damn it. I wish I’d…”

Rae says, “She stayed a minute to talk to you, didn’t she?”

Ink swallows. He doesn’t like remembering that moment. Beth had no way of knowing that those would be her last words to him. Yet, thinking back on them, they feel so _final._

Finding his voice is difficult. “She did. She asked me to be brave for her.”

Liza reaches under her sunglasses to rub her eyes. 

Rae sucks in a deep breath. “Funny. She said something similar to me.”

Liza whispers, “She… She knew something would happen, didn’t she?”

Something. That was why she gave Ink the letter, wasn’t it? He says, “I miss her so much.”

“They didn’t have to kill her,” Liza croaks, “There was no reason…”

Rae says, “She woulda fucked up three Corners in a row. They just couldn’t let that happen, huh.”

Ink says, “She was too good for us.”

That, they can all agree upon. 

Liza says, “I didn’t even realize it until today… but he named me after her.”

Rae frowns, “The hell are you talking about?”

“Rae. What do you think Liza is short for?” she asks, looking exasperated.

“It’s short for something?” Rae asks.

Ink quickly supplies, “Beth and Liza are both diminutives of Elizabeth.”

Rae looks dumbfounded at the realization. “Son of a bitch. It was right in front of my face.”

“Even if we’d noticed that sooner, we’d think it was a coincidence,” Ink says, “At most, someone would’ve joked about it.”

Liza says softly, “I guess. I… I just… I have so many regrets.”

They all do at this point. Ink tightens his grip on the umbrella handle.

The rain continues to hammer down on the earth. Ink says, “I’m going up to her grave. You guys coming?”

Liza asks, “Is my father still—“

“Yep,” Rae confirms.

Liza says, “I won’t, then. I can’t face him.”

Ink says, “Okay. We’ve only got the one umbrella, so—“

Rae pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over Liza, “We’ll run. You take it.”

Ink nods to them, and Rae and Liza take off running towards the car. He steadies himself and turns around, then walks up to Beth’s headstone.

_Elizabeth Marche_

_1939 - 2019_

_May you find peace among the stars._

Ink sniffles. He isn’t sure whether or not it’s due to the rain.

“Thank you for being a friend to her,” a voice says. Ink turns to Nolan Thatcher, who hasn’t moved from his spot in hours.

There’s a lot he could say to that. Or in general. But Ink is the least angry with Nolan of the three of them, so it all stays buried in his rib cage.

Instead, he mutters, “I hope she’s watching.”

Nolan says, “I imagine she is. She always hovered when I was a child. She wouldn’t have things any other way.”

Ink finds himself smiling. The torrential downpour is beating down the umbrella’s fabric.

“How is Liza doing?” Nolan asks. His face is gaunt and weary.

Ink focuses on the mud by his feet. There’s a patch that looks disturbingly like Sent’s face. He grits his teeth, “She wants nothing to do with you.”

Nolan sighs, “I expected as much, but is she healthy? Eating well?”

Ink shifts away from him, “She wants nothing to do with you. I’m not telling you anything.”

Nolan looks worse than usual at his words, but Ink wills himself not to cave. Liza had made both him and Rae promise not to say a word about her.

(Nevermind that Rae wouldn’t last ten seconds in conversation with Nolan Thatcher before trying to deck him.)

“I understand,” Nolan says, sighing. “I know I ruined everything. My obsession with CORNERS forever distorted our futures.”

Ink closes his eyes. “Good. You get that.”

Nolan says, “Any particular reason for the cold shoulder? You weren’t this upset the last time we met.”

Ink takes a breath, then finally turns to him. “I don’t want to speak to you. I might not hate you the same way Liza and Rae do, but you are not someone I want to associate with.”

Nolan nods slowly. “Very well. I will leave things are they are.”

Silently, they continue to stare at Beth’s grave. Ink is the one to leave first.

At least Nolan hasn’t taken the easy way out.

* * *

Cold sunlight shines in through the dorm room windows. Rae stands next to it, staring out into the parking lot below. It’s not a great view, but at least they _have_ a window.

Ink watches him from the kitchen counter. It’s a lazy Sunday. Rae has physio in a couple hours, but Ink has nowhere to be, and relishes in it. 

They need the quiet. Attending classes and therapy sessions is good, he knows, but sometimes, he just needs a couple hours to stop and take in the slow moments.

His gaze is trained on Rae, he knows. Ink’s come to terms with why he does this, with why his stomach twists and why his heart beats so fast. If he really thinks about it, he’s known for a while. Isn’t that why he kept making jokes instead of focusing on that one puzzle? Isn’t that why he followed Rae into that elevator?

(Water lapping at his heels. _Don’t drown,_ the hint taunts as it rises.)

Ink digs his nails into the counter. He’s not going to make the same mistake twice. He’s content to just watch.

“Something bothering you?” Rae asks, bringing him back to his senses, “You had a super far off look in your eyes.”

Ink looks down at his hands, hoping that all his emotions won’t show on his face. “Thinking.”

Rae says, “Need to talk it out? You’re not supposed to bottle that shit up.”

He isn't. But this is still something that needs to stay securely locked away inside of him, lest he ruin one of the only good things he still has in his life. 

(He’s positively glowing in the sunlight.)

Ink fumbles for some kind of appropriate answer, hating that the one he reaches is the safest. “Just… my parents. What my mom said.”

Rae winces. “That’s a tough one. Ain’t really my place to talk about a lot of it, but what she said to you was fucked up and gross.”

“Thanks,” Ink says, letting out a long sigh. “I’ve just been thinking that… that…”

He trails off. Rae leaves the window and comes to stand next to him. His heart starts thumping faster.

“Sean… really told everyone I was trans and had Sent deadname me, huh,” Ink finally gets out. This wasn’t what he’d wanted to talk about in the least, but it _had_ been lingering in the back of his mind.

Rae clenches his fist. “Sean’s a fucking shithead. Fuck, I wish he hadn’t just… said it.”

Ink asks, “Did you know? The others… didn’t seem to, and I didn’t want to just…”

Rae says, “Suspected with how cagey you were, but I wasn’t gonna make it worse. Felt weird enough solving the damn puzzle while that shit went down.”

Ink rubs his eyes. “I’m just glad you managed to change the subject before it got worse. Um. It’s not weird for you, is it?”

“Why the hell would it be weird?” Rae asks.

Ink cracks a smile, but it disappears just as quickly, “Sean… he always said that I could never know what someone would say. God damn it. The more I think about it, the more obvious it was that he was…”

Rae says, “That manipulative sack of shit is gone. You’ve got Liza and I, and we’re never fucking leaving you behind.”

“He’s gone because I--”

Rae pulls him into a tight hug. “That wasn’t your fucking fault. I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”

Ink buries his face into Rae’s shoulder and bites back a scream. It always comes back to this in the end. It always comes back to the choice that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

* * *

The restaurant is warm. The lights above them are low and peaceful.

Ink picks at his ramen, while Liza devours rolls at the speed of light. He’s glad that she’s eating well, but it’s slightly terrifying to watch. It doesn’t help that he’s not very hungry himself.

It seems that therapy has been doing that to him lately. Ink wonders if it’s because they’ve been talking about Aether again.

He wonders if she would’ve liked to eat here. Bile rises up in his throat as it occurs to him that Sean probably designed her to like all the same foods as him.

Ink suddenly isn’t hungry at all. He pushes his bowl towards Liza and says, “This is yours if you want.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Liza asks.

Ink says, “Not feeling well. And I really don’t want to throw up in public.”

Liza takes the bowl. “If you’re sure. Drink your water, at least. You might be dehydrated.”

He doubts that’s the issue, but has a sip anyways. It’s cold. He supposes that’s for the best.

“I’ve been talking to some doctors recently,” Liza says suddenly, “There’s… a procedure they can do. It’s expensive, and I’ll need glasses forever, but it would let me see again.”

Ink blinks. “I didn’t know that was something that existed.”

Liza says, “Well, like I said, it’s really expensive. Not an option for most people… and I don’t think it works if you’re born blind.”

Ink nods. “Gotcha. I take it you’re going through with this?”

“That’s the thing,” Liza says, “I don’t know if I want to have my sight restored.”

Ink folds his hands. “Really? You told me that you were excited to see again.”

Liza nods and takes a deep breath. “Well, I thought I was still the heiress to Thatcher Biometrics, which is down the drain. And… it’s fucking selfish.”

Ink takes a sip of water and waits for her to elaborate.

Liza says, “There are so many people who could never have this opportunity. It doesn’t feel fair. I’d just be using my class privilege for myself, instead of _doing_ something.”

Ink says, “I think I get where you’re coming from? I think I’m just surprised to hear you say all this.”

“I’m a little surprised myself,” Liza admits, “I was just thinking that… Ink, have you heard those so-called success stories of people in wheelchairs walking down the aisle at their weddings or whatever?”

Ink thinks for a moment. “Not any specific ones, but I’ve heard about the sentiment.”

“It’s ableist propaganda,” Liza says flatly.

_...Damn._

Liza says, “People with disabilities are held to such ludicrous standards, and it’s disgusting. We’re not below everyone else, and shouldn’t have to go through intense pain to appear the same as abled people.”

Ink senses a lot of pent up emotions. He fumbles for a reasonable response. “You’re passionate. From what I’m hearing, you don’t want the operation?”

Liza shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I… When I was younger, I wanted an inspiration. So I didn’t feel that I was being left behind. Now, I think I need to _be_ that inspiration. If… I can be meaningful to anyone, if I can help people just by making an impact… I want that more than I want to see.”

Ink says softly, “That’s very noble of you.”

Liza grabs her arm and looks away. “I dunno about that. I just want to make my own future. I… I want to live.”

“Me too,” Ink says, having another sip of water, “Me too.”

* * *

Ink struggles with the lock on the door for a moment. It seems to be secured tighter than usual. When he finally gets the door to move, it bumps against something.

_What the hell?_

He finally gets inside the dorm, and realizes that there’s a pile of books by the door. Ink stares at them for a moment, trying to remember if he’d done that.

“Shit…”

Ink follows the voice. Rae is standing at the kitchen counter, face in his hands as he mutters to himself.

“Is everything okay?” Ink asks, closing the door and raising an eyebrow.

Rae jumps, apparently having not realized that he was there. “Ah, fuck. Look, I’ve been dancing around this in my own head way too fuckin’ long, so I’m just gonna be blunt.”

Ink nods and takes a few steps forward, trying to prepare himself for whatever the hell he’s about to hear.

“You like men, right?” Rae asks.

...Well, that is definitely one of the last things he expected.

“Um. Yes?” Ink says, trying to figure out where this is coming from. “I’m bisexual.”

Rae nods and bites down on his lip, looking as if he’s dying to say something.

Ink ignores the tightness in his throat. “Is… there a problem?”

“What? No! No no no,” Rae says, digging his nails into his dead arm. “Shit, that must’ve stressed you the fuck out. No, no, it’s just… I might…”

Trepidation eases, Ink takes a couple steps closer. “What’s the matter, then?”

“I dunno if I’m thinking this ‘cause of how badly Tiana got me fucked up,” Rae begins slowly, “or maybe it’s just you in particular, but…”

He trails off. Ink waits patiently for him to compose himself.

Finally, Rae says, “I think I’m gay.”

Ink smiles gently. Rae’s anxiety starts to fade at the sight of it, tension releasing from his shoulders. In his own memories, this moment is sterile and punctuated by Sean’s dismissive laughter. He doesn’t want Rae to have the same coldness tainting his own experience. Ink wants him to have all the warmth he deserves and more.

(His heart is pounding.)

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Ink says, his voice soft and careful. “I swear, it’s never too late to figure yourself out, and Liza and I will be with you the whole way.”

Rae nods at this, but he doesn’t look completely relieved. Something in his expression is still strained, still unsure.

And suddenly, Ink processes the rest of what he said. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘me in particular’?”

Rae doesn’t look at him as he rasps, “Take a wild guess, Ink.”

Neither of them speak, but Ink starts moving closer to him. Silently, they meet in the middle and stare at each other for a moment, the sound of uneven breathing filling the kitchen.

Rae’s lips are soft and his embrace feels like home.

(A few hours later, Liza calls to ask if Rae ‘finally got his shit together.’ Ink laughs and tells her yes.)

* * *

“What’s with the balloons?” Ink asks.

Rae ties a knot in one, shrugging. “Dunno. Seemed appropriately festive. We can just hit each other with ‘em or something.”

Ink laughs. It’s a sweet (and silly) idea. He looks down at the cake and asks, “I think it’s ready for the candles. Can I borrow your lighter?”

“I tossed that thing weeks ago,” Rae replies, about to blow up another balloon. “Easier to quit smoking without it. Can’t light a cig with my hand.”

Ink says, “I’m proud of you. Maybe we should forego candles, then. I have no idea where Liza would keep matches.”

It’s already weird enough that they’re rattling around in her kitchen while she’s out. She’d given them each a key and informed any staff that they were allowed to be there whenever, but it still feels like they’re intruding. Jellyfish has been glaring at them the entire time, but hasn’t tried to bite either of them. Yet.

Whatever. It’s a surprise party. Isn’t intruding somewhat necessary for those? He wouldn’t know, considering he’s never had one.

The front door opens. Rae throws a balloon across the room, and Ink finishes adding sprinkles to the cake. As Liza heads down the hallway, they exchange glances and silently count down.

“Surprise! Happy birthday!”

Liza jumps, slamming into the wall. “What the hell?! What are you two doing?!”

Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. A wayward balloon hits Liza’s forehead, and she desperately swats it away.

Ink rubs his neck, “We wanted to celebrate your birthday? We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What?!” Liza exclaims.

Rae frowns, “Why do you sound so damn confused? After we made you a cake and everything.”

Liza pulls off her sunglasses and rubs her face. “Because it’s not my birthday? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“It’s November first!” Ink responds, “I asked in our group chat a couple weeks ago when your birthdays were, and you said eleven slash one!”

Liza looks exasperated, “January eleventh. My birthday is January eleventh, you dumbass.”

Ink frowns. “That’s-- You write it day month year?”

“Welcome to Canada, Ink!” Liza replies, starting to laugh, “Didn’t you grow up in Bellbridge?”

Ink stares at the floor instead of replying. This is the dumbest he’s felt in years.

“And you!” Liza says, turning towards Rae. “You _had_ to have known he’d messed up the date.”

Rae shrugs. “I thought it was weird, but I trusted Ink’s judgement.”

Liza snorts. “Love has made you dumb.”

“Fuck you!” Rae responds, unable to keep a grin off his face.

Ink asks, “What are we gonna do with the cake?”

Liza says, “Uh, eat it? Even if you’re a dumbass, we can still enjoy it.”

“And the balloons?” Ink asks.

Rae chucks one at his head. “I told you, we can just hit each other with ‘em.”

Liza snorts and fumbles around for one of the many balloons that Rae had blown up in the past hour, then tosses it in their general direction. It lands right on her cake.

* * *

The sunset has turned the sky a gorgeous orange colour. It’s not even very late out, but it is almost winter, so a general chill is starting to set in. Ink watches as his breath becomes a cloud in front of him.

“I need to sit down,” Rae says, panting, “Can we find a bench?”

Ink nods, “Of course. There’s one over there, let’s rest.”

They’ve been wandering around the dog park for nearly two hours now. Ink’s never been here before, and Rae had been lamenting that he hadn’t been there in years, so now they’re exploring it together. It’s bigger than he ever thought. The dogs are cute too, even if he’s more of a cat person. Rae’s not great with animals in general, but he gets a peaceful look on his face while watching them.

As they sit down on the bench, Ink takes Rae’s hand and interlaces their fingers. They’re not exactly open, not yet, and that’s fine. They don’t need to be there for anyone besides themselves. And Liza, who apparently knew about how stupid they both were the whole time.

It’s a peaceful evening. A few people and their dogs jog by in the distance, but overall, it’s just them, the clouds, and the ever darkening sky. 

“You missed this place,” Ink says, watching as a golden retriever bounds after a tennis ball.

Rae grins. “Sure I did. I’ve been wanting to come back, but it never felt right.”

Even with the chilly late autumn air around him, Ink feels somewhat drowsy. He supposes that he’s warm in his coat and scarf. It’s nice here.

“You just couldn’t resist the old haunts, could you?”

The voice is hard like stone, but carries surprisingly little venom. Ink instinctively loosens his grip on Rae’s hand, but Rae squeezes it so tight that it cuts off his circulation. Both of them are shaking as they look up at Tiana Tran.

She doesn’t look happy, angry, or really anything at all. Just tired.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rae asks, his face knit into a deep scowl.

Tiana folds her arms. “It’s a free country. I can be here as much as you two can.”

Ink opens his mouth, but no words come out. His voice is frozen in his throat.

Rae snaps, “I thought Nolan Thatcher paid you off.”

“He did. Never said I had to leave Bellbridge,” Tiana says, eyes trained on a corgi walking past. “I’m here for closure.”

Rae somehow manages to squeeze Ink’s hand tighter. “Are you fucking kidding me? _You_ need closure?! You were complicit in Exit/Corners and put my arm through a goddamn meat grinder. You tried to have me, have us all killed. No, fuck you and everything you stand for.”

Ink still can’t make himself speak. He’s shaking too badly.

Tiana sighs. “That’s part of why I’m here. Rae, as much as I hate you, I didn’t want you to die. The other two just pushed for it constantly, and Sean essentially took the choice from me.”

“That’s fucking fantastic. Leave us alone,” Rae says, his shoulders so tense they might shatter.

Tiana says, “You don’t have to be so cold.”

Rae replies, “You’re lucky to be _alive._ Don’t make me test that.”

“Don’t,” Ink chokes out.

“I won’t. I won’t,” Rae murmurs, deep bitterness in his voice.

Tiana doesn’t seem to have heard that exchange. “I know I’m lucky. I’m forced to remember everyday that Sean’s pod malfunctioned because of his excessive hemorrhaging, and that it easily could’ve been me. That’s why I’m trying to apologize.”

“Malfunction?” Ink croaks.

Rae grumbles, “Shitty fucking apology.”

Ink is too focused on the first part of her statement. Is that what she was told? That Sean’s death was an accident? His voice fails him again. His stomach churns.

“You can take it or leave it,” Tiana says, “I don’t particularly care. What matters is that I’ve said it. Contrary to popular belief, I do hope you recover.”

Rae rolls his eyes. “You’re a shitty liar. You just said you hated me.”

“Both can be true simultaneously,” Tiana responds. She pauses for a moment as her eyes catch on their linked hands.

Ink whispers, “Tiana. Please leave.”

Tiana closes her eyes as a gust of wind tussels her hair. “Whatever. Make him happy.”

With that, she spins around on her heels and walks off, eventually disappearing over the horizon. Rae doesn’t start to relax until she’s out of sight. Weakly, they lean on each other as Ink awkwardly tries to massage his right hand back to life.

“How plausible’s a restraining order?” Rae asks.

Ink says, “Unlikely. She might bring up your arson streak if you tried.”

Rae says, “I just never wanna see her fucking face ever again.”

Ink whispers, “I get it. I get it. We should leave Bellbridge.”

“We’re still in school,” Rae mutters.

Ink shrugs. “You’re almost done your degree. Fast track it, I’ll drop out. Us and Liza can pack up and… go to Europe or something.”

Rae snorts. “She’d insist on bringing that weird cat with her.”

“Jellyfish is welcome on our travels,” Ink says, “He’s our mascot.”

That gets a laugh out of Rae. “We really are a goddamn circus. Also, don’t drop out. Speaking from experience, it sucks.”

Ink says, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rae agrees, weary.

* * *

The streets are surprisingly vacant. Ink absently wanders through downtown Bellbridge, reading the store signs. They’re all somewhat blurry, but that’s fine. He has nowhere to be. It’s just nice.

There are people walking down the other side of the street, and the occasional whoosh of a car, but otherwise, he hasn’t encountered another person throughout his walk. Slightly strange, but not unwelcome.

Ink stops at a crosswalk and waits for the light to change. He doesn’t recognize this part of town, but it feels intimately familiar. Has he driven by here and just doesn’t remember? No, that can’t be it. Something about it is just distant enough that he can’t explain it.

He stops thinking about it when he hears his name being called, and turns around, instantly breaking into a smile.

“Aether!” Ink greets as she runs up to him, her eyes bright, “What are you doing out here?”

Aether shrugs. “Nothing in particular! I wanted some fresh air, but I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s been a while, Mister Grizzled Detective.”

Ink grins. “Sure has. I’ve had so much going on that I’ve barely had any free time before now.”

“Me too,” Aether says, “I never knew how intense psych could really be.”

Ink asks, “Oh yeah, did you end up choosing your specialization? I was wondering if you had that figured out.”

Aether says, “I’m thinking about trying the pre-counselling program. I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

“I think so too,” Ink agrees, smiling softly, “Say, do you want ice cream? My treat.”

Aether laughs. “In December?”

Ink shrugs. “Why not? I know a place that’ll be open.”

Aether says, “Well, if you’re sure! I could go for some, actually. Lead the way!”

Together, they head through the empty streets until they locate Ink’s favourite ice cream parlour. He doesn’t remember it being in this part of town, but it _has_ been a while since he’s been strolling through the stores. His brain must be getting fuzzy.

The faceless worker at the counter happily serves them two cones, pistachio for Ink and vanilla for Aether. They sit down in the soft armchairs to eat, content in the fading light.

Aether asks, “You’ve told me about yourself, but how are Rae and Liza holding up?”

Ink pauses as her words sink in. Slowly, he says, “This… is a dream.”

“Well, duh.” Aether smiles, somewhat sadly, “You know I’m just a part of your memories.”

Ink slumps back in his chair. “I knew it was too good to be true. I was just so happy to talk to you again.”

It’s been a long time since Aether has walked his dreams.

Aether nudges him gently. “Don’t be so down. We’ve got time to talk! I want to know what’s been going on since it all ended. And why you asked for pistachio.”

“It’s classy!” Ink protests. Aether giggles, and he finds himself unable to be upset. Ink takes a moment to catch the melting parts of his ice cream, then says, “We’re all doing our best. Sometimes, it’s not a lot, but it’s okay, I think.”

Aether nods. “Recovery’s hard. Small steps are just as important and necessary. I’m really proud of all of you.”

Ink looks at her, trying to focus on the details of her face. “I miss you. Every day.”

“I miss you too,” Aether says, leaning forwards, “But I’m happy for you too. That you’ve moved on.”

Ink rubs his forehead. “Really? I felt guilty about it at first. That it was betraying you somehow.”

Aether laughs. “Aw, Ink. Ever the gentleman, even to girls that don’t exist.”

“That’s the thing,” Ink says, “What if I wake up tonight, and you are _real?_ What then?”

Aether asks, “Is that something you worry about often?”

Ink nods. “I feel like you have to be out there, somehow. A person can’t just be made up. Not… Not like that.”

Aether reaches across and puts a hand on his. “I’m real here. Does that count?”

“I like to think it does,” Ink says softly. His eyes are burning.

Aether smiles. “Good. I won’t leave you, okay? I’d be an awful sidekick if I just left you behind forever.”

Ink says, “You’re so much more than a sidekick. You’ll always be important to me.”

Aether laughs, and it sounds like bells. “Thank you. Eat your ice cream, okay? It’s melting.”

Sure enough, it’s practically turned to soup. Ink dives back into it, savouring the taste.

“What are you going to do next?” Aether asks curiously.

Ink says, “The three of us are talking about backpacking in Europe for a while, after Rae and I graduate. Liza doesn’t know if she’s gonna tackle post-secondary yet.”

Aether grins. “Ooh, sounds exciting! You’ll have to tell me all the funny stories.”

“Of course,” Ink says, “And… aside from that… I’m thinking I might write a book after all.”

Aether clasps her hands. “That sounds neat! What about?”

Ink grins. “A totally fictional story about a death game called Exit/Corners. It’ll be a bestseller.”

Aether says, “You’d get in so much trouble if you did that.”

“I know,” Ink replies, looking up at the ceiling, “Like I said, I’m only thinking about it. I have the rest of my life to decide what I’ll do.”

Aether’s voice is soft. “I’ll be with you. Good luck, Ink.”

Ink chuckles. When he looks back at the other chair, Aether is gone.

* * *

He wakes, not with a start for a change. The three of them are camped out in Liza’s living room for the night, after a long day of movie marathons with extensive closed captioning. 

Liza is curled up in a ball under a heap of blankets, and Rae is snoring next to him on the blowup air mattress. Jellyfish is sitting on the cabinet, green eyes shining in the dark. Ink stares at the cat for a minute, then rolls over, and tries to go back to sleep.

It might not be peaceful. It might end with a scream and a lot of thrashing. But if things go south, he won’t be alone.

Comforted, Ink closes his eyes. They have long lives to live.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the span of a week, during which I ended up replaying the game and scavenging through the q&a for details. About halfway through writing it, Percon mentioned on twitter that the secret ending is the bad one, which is completely true, I just went for it because I felt it would be interesting to unpack.
> 
> I have no idea how it got so long, I think I was possessed at some point. Thanks for reading!


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